


Flowers For The Lady

by The_Wonderful_Jinx



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Flower Language, Weddings, happy valentines 2k16 fellow stragan trash!, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wonderful_Jinx/pseuds/The_Wonderful_Jinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex never thought that Strand would be the kind of man to give flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers For The Lady

Alex never thought that Strand would be the kind of man to give flowers. Maybe a dozen roses for a special occasion: the tried, true, and kind of boring tradition backed with honest intentions. Not that there was anything wrong with traditions, she was just partial to variety and thinking outside the box.

The day after a particularly nasty fight where they both said things they immediately regretted, she finds a large glass vase brimming with pink dahlias and red daises sitting her desk. On the vase is a white ribbon. Tucked in the ribbon is a note that reads “ _I know they’re not meant for apologies, but their meanings fit you perfectly._ ” A quick google search and a few different articles later, the general consensus is that the dahlias represented elegance, dignity, and lasting bonds while the daisies of that color meant that the receiver had a beauty that they were not aware of. 

“Did you like the flowers?” he asks, when she shows up without warning to his apartment that night. She pulls him down by his tie and kisses him with a passion he’s never felt before. He takes that one and the many other kisses that follow as a ‘yes’. 

* * *

For Valentines Day, he has a dozen red tulips when they meet at the cafe for lunch. The color matches his tie, she wonders if he did that intentionally or not. 

“I know it’s tradition to give roses,” he explains quickly when she sits down next to him.“But the shop was sold out and I wanted to be a little more creative.” He pushes the bouquet to her like they will to come to life and bite him at any second. He looks so vulnerable before her, his hands are shaking and his eyes are wide, afraid of how she’ll respond. A part of her wants to laugh at the strangeness of it all, but she doesn’t. 

“It’s fine Richard.” she says, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze, chasing away the cold that still lingered on his skin. “Don’t worry, they’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” he says. Immediately he groans and buries his face in his other hand in embarrassment. This time she laughs. Loud enough enough to have the other customers around them to wonder what her partner said. 

She takes the bouquet with a smile and rewards him with a kiss on the cheek. She gasps. Quickly grabbing a napkin, she begins dabbing at the print her pink lipstick leaves behind. But the blush that creeps into his face makes the perfect camouflage. 

“So what do these mean?” she asks once she removes the stain.

She can’t hear him very well, but she swears he says ‘ _undying love_ ’ under his breathe. She grins and playfully punches him in the shoulder. He groans in mock pain.

“I love you too, you dork.”

* * *

 _‘Life works in mysterious ways.’_ she thinks as her bridesmaids –-composed of her mom, her cousins, some interns, and Nic (who is outside, standing guard)-– mill around her like bees; whispering, laughing, and reminiscing. All eyes are on her.

Her hands have been shaking all week, she can barely comb her hair without snagging on a tangle or get her makeup on. So her entourage helps: two interns focus on her hair, her cousin --the same one who helped her out with prom years ago-- touches up her makeup, and her mom lords above them all, watching everyone like a hawk and making sure everyone is doing something productive.

“Like hell you’re going get less than perfect wedding day.” her mother says like a prayer, as though saying it over and over again  _will_ make it happen. (' _Apophenia.'_  Alex thinks, clamping down on the smile threatening to break). An intern adjusts the laces on the back of her white dress while another cousin smooths out the skirt. Curiosity gets the best of her, and she steals a glance in the three-way mirror. She looks, well, divine. Queenly, even, and her entourage dressed in pale silver dresses only adds to the illusion of grandeur. 

Nic enters the room, nervously tugging at the cuffs of his black suit. “Has anyone seen the bouquet?” 

Right on cue, Melissa and Ruby walk right past him with the trains of their sparkling black dresses dragging across the wood floor like black water. Mel tosses the flowers -an amalgamation of red and white roses- to her. She catches it with ease, the green stems are smooth to the touch. Ruby winks and an actual smile -not one out of professional politeness or smugness- appears on her face.

“Flowers for the lady.” Ruby teases. “We would’ve had them yesterday but you know how Strand is, couldn’t make up his damn mind and wanted to surprise you.”

“How is he by the way?” she asks, trying not to sound too hasty or nervous but the wide grin on Mel’s face and the giggling of the interns tell her she has failed.

“He’s fine. He’s nervous as all hell and worried that you’re going to change your mind, but he hasn’t fainted. Yet. Don’t you worry, we’ll keep him alive.” Mel says, and with that,they turn on their heels and make their way back to Strand. The sharp staccato of their heels reverberate through the thin walls. 

“Can I have a moment alone please?” she says to everyone in the room.

Her mom and Nic herd everyone out and tell her they’ll be waiting in the garden. 

She runs her fingers over the roses, admiring how soft and silky the petals are, how the colors coordinate with her dress (of course he would take that into consideration), and how their sweet -almost sickeningly so- scent has already flooded the room. She takes in a deep breath. It’s fresh, invigorating even, much better than the rotten and decayed hallways she and Strand traversed during their years of their oddball partnership.

 _‘Unity. Balance.’_  she thinks, recalling one of his little lectures about flower meanings. She smiles . She can’t believe she’s doing this. Well, she always wanted to get married, but she never thought that getting to the alter meant a podcast, ghosts, demons, upside down faces, and -of course- a stubborn doctor. 

The odds were against them the minute she walked into his office for their first interview: the semi-believer and the evangelical skeptic, vowed enemies on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Stories were written about their kind of balance, but they were fiction, and in reality and in practice, they wouldn’t --wouldn't-- last a minute. 

 _‘Yet here we are, five years later.’_ she thinks as she takes one of the smaller blossoms and tucks it behind her ear, making sure not to muss up her hair.  _‘Can’t live with him. Can’t live without him.’_

She leaves the room, the train of her dress silently brushing the floor like a sigh. Her back is a little straighter and her smile a little more wider as she makes her way to the garden where her friends, family, and soon to be husband –-her total opposite, her partner in crime-– are waiting. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what think and if there are any errors/ooc-ness please let me know! Happy Valentines day everyone!


End file.
